


Pomp and Circumstance

by Shamelessquestions (KagekitsuneXXX)



Series: Domestic Bliss [11]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Celebrations, Drinking, Family, Future Fic, M/M, Milestones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-12
Updated: 2014-06-12
Packaged: 2018-02-04 08:17:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1772092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KagekitsuneXXX/pseuds/Shamelessquestions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian's graduation day is finally here and everyone wants to be a part of it. The boys have never been so stressed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pomp and Circumstance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [24_centuries](https://archiveofourown.org/users/24_centuries/gifts).



> For everyone who is part of a graduating Class of 2014. Congratulations!

There were few sensations in the world more unpleasant to Mickey Milkovich than stretching out his hand in the middle of the night and encountering nothing but empty, rumpled sheets. He grunted tiredly and slowly sat up in bed, blinking as he scanned the dark room for any signs of his partner. He was alone and the clock said it was a few minutes past three. This could never be a good thing. He plodded out into the living room and found Ian out on their tiny balcony, sucking down a cigarette. He raised an eyebrow and went to join him, slapping the redhead’s butt and startling him.

“Jesus, Mickey,” Ian huffed and protested weakly when Mickey confiscated his cigarette and puffed it.

“You quit,” Mickey pointed out mildly and refused to pass the stick back. “Why are you out here, you got needles in your bed?”

“No, just one prick,” Ian grumbled and eyed the cigarette longingly, “I just wanted a smoke, is that a crime?”

Mickey deliberately finished the cigarette and tossed it over the balcony. He trailed behind his boyfriend as Ian retreated into the living room, muttering to himself. “Can’t have you relapsing, can I? You haven’t smoked in ages. What’s with you?”

Ian sat heavily on the couch and rubbed his eyes tiredly. When Mickey sat next to him, he hesitated briefly before slouching and resting his head against his partner’s shoulder—exhausted, but too anxious to sleep.

“Finals are in a month,” Ian began quietly.

“Hmm?” Mickey rubbed the pale expanse of Ian’s boxer-clad thighs and waited. It was Ian’s final semester and it had been uneventful so far. As far as Mickey knew, Ian was on course to graduate and maybe with honours if this last bit went well.

 “I’m going to fuck this up, I just know it,” Ian said frankly. “It’s so close I can taste it, so obviously I’m going to pull some kind of colossal fuck-up out my ass and just ruin it.”

Mickey wrinkled his nose and sniffed. “How do you figure that’s going to go down?”

“I don’t know; that’s the beauty and mystery of the Gallagher curse. We get this close to what we want and then poof! I’m figuring some sort of epic brain freeze in all of my finals, maybe? Or I’ll smash someone’s car windows in, set one of the deans’ office on fire? Who knows how this will manifest?”

Mickey laughed at the idea. “You’re not going to fuck it up, Ian.”

“How can you know that?” Ian said despondently.

“Because I have sunk too much time, money and effort into the education of your narrow ass for you to fuck it up now.” Mickey offered mildly and raked his fingers lightly over Ian’s knee.

Ian sat up and blinked at Mickey incredulously. “That isn’t what you’re supposed to say! You can’t say that! That’s the opposite of taking the pressure off me.”

“Who the fuck wants to take the pressure off you?” Mickey’s eyebrows climbed higher with each word. “You know how much shit I’ve had to shovel to get you to this point?” He asked as he warmed to his topic, “the concrete I’ve had to mix, the dicks I’ve had to suck?”

Ian gave a snort of laughter and butted his forehead against Mickey’s shoulder. “Shut up! You didn’t suck any dicks. You’re making me feel bad.”

“Fucking right you better feel bad. You’re not just my boyfriend, Firecrotch, you’re my fucking investment. You better start paying off soon or I’m allowed to start busting kneecaps, starting with this one,” Mickey tickled the back of Ian’s right knee and his boyfriend laughed, squirmed and cried “uncle” until Mickey released him. “So remember that these exams and this degree are merely stepping stones on your way to becoming the sugar daddy I deserve. So make it work, buckaroo.”

Ian grinned helplessly into Mickey’s shoulder. “You’re such a dick. I can’t believe you’re still on this sugar daddy kick.”

Mickey smiled back and got up to head back to bed. He grabbed a fistful of Ian’s tank top and dragged him along. In the blackness of their bedroom, they quickly shed their boxers and tops to help deal with the heat of the coming summer. Ian immediately negated all cool down efforts by spooning against Mickey, one warm hand trailing down Mickey’s chest and not stopping until Ian was fondling Mickey’s genitals, simply because he could.

“Pervert,” Mickey yawned.

“Mine,” Ian grunted.

“You shouldn’t worry so fucking much all the time,” Mickey spoke softly into the dark while Ian shuffled about behind him, “you’ve got this and it’s almost over. Just maintain for a little bit longer.”

“And envision being a good sugar daddy, huh?”  Ian suggested.

“Envision being the best sugar daddy—I deserve nothing less.”

* * *

It was a Friday afternoon when the last of Ian’s grades came in: one A, one A-, two B+’s, one B. He was graduating on time, he was graduating cum laude and he was about to flip the fuck out. Mickey was fast asleep in their bed, making the most of a rare day off. Ian pounced on him in excitement and jolted him awake.

“The fuck?!” Mickey was cut off by Ian flipping him over and waving the phone in his face.   

“All my grades are in,” Ian was almost squealing in happiness as Mickey squinted into the glare of the phone. “I passed! I’m graduating! I’m fucking graduating…with a degree!” He stopped bouncing long enough to stare again at his grades incredulously. “I mean, what the fuck?!”

Mickey seemed sleep deprived and unimpressed. “You fucking woke me up for this shit?”

“Yeah,” Ian answered uncertainly, surprised by Mickey’s surliness. “I mean, I just found out.”

“We already knew you’d graduate, Jesus. You’re always so goddamned dramatic. Will you get the fuck off me?” 

Ian sheepishly moved away from his boyfriend, cowed by Mickey’s mood. He slid off the bed and started leaving the room, but only made it a few inches before Mickey’s arms were around his waist and he was being bodily tossed back onto the bed.

“You fucking did it!” Mickey yelled as he attacked his laughing boyfriend. “What the fuck did I tell you, huh? What did I say would happen?”

It was a hell of a way to kick-start their weekend.

* * *

What Ian would find out in a couple of months was that all those courses he thought had been impossible were nothing on the math of having a boyfriend, a best friend, and five siblings but only three graduation tickets.

“How the fuck am I supposed to do this?” Ian chewed on his thumb as he tried to work out the logistics. “They all want to come. Lip says he would fly in for the day and Fi is trying to find an RV and turning it into a road trip.”

Mickey’s only suggestion of having a no-holds-barred cage match where the victor takes the spoils was met with derision, so he had been staying quiet. He rolled over onto his back and then tried to go the selfless route.

“You can give Fiona my ticket if you want,” he suggested, not really thinking that one through clearly.

Ian, who had been sitting on the edge of the bed and on the verge of a nervous breakdown, stiffened at the offer. He turned on Mickey slowly, stared at him for a moment before punching him hard in the shoulder. Mickey didn’t even have time to protest before Ian was on him, whacking him for all he was worth with a pillow.

“Why are you hitting me?!” Mickey made a desperate attempt to escape from the onslaught, but Ian was having none of it.

“You don’t want to go?!”

“What?! Of course I do! I was just trying to help!” the rest of Mickey’s cries were muffled by Ian periodically smothering him with the pillow.

“That is not fucking helping!” Ian yelled as he lifted the pillow briefly, “Offer real solutions, you jackass. You’re going if I have to drag your stupid corpse there.”

“Alright, Jesus,” Mickey finally managed to dislodge his boyfriend and lay panting next to him. “You know I want to go. Maybe talk to the administration, see if they can give you any extras; or see if any of your friends are losers who don’t have as many people loving them.”

Ian was impressed. “Wow, now see, if only you could have these ideas without me having to lose my shit.”

“Watching you lose your shit is one of life’s greatest pleasures, Firecrotch.”

Ian snorted and straddled his partner, holding him in place for a conversation that would have most likely had Mickey bolting. “So, I’ve been thinking since I’m done now, maybe we should think about you going back to school.”

Mickey immediately looked away and started shifting uncomfortably. “Look, we’re nowhere ready to talk about anything like that. You don’t even have a job yet, and we need to start chipping away at your loans before they get on top of us. What you need to worry about is finding yourself a proper job so you can stop shaking your ass in front of dusty, old queens.”

Ian sighed and rolled his eyes, “yeah and we can do all that while you get your GED at least.”

Mickey was getting increasingly defensive. “Oh, so what, now that you’re going to be a college grad, my high school drop out ass is unacceptable to you?”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now, Mick? You know that isn’t what this is about,” Ian turned Mickey’s head so his partner was glaring up at him defiantly rather than just looking off to the side. “We never talk about this; _you_ never really say anything about what kind of ambitions you have. I mean, what did you want to do? What did you dream about growing up?”

“You’re the one who has to be kidding me right now,” Mickey snorted incredulously. “Who the fuck thinks about that shit in the Southside except for you goddamned Gallaghers? Shit, I thought Terry was going to end up breaking my neck one day, or I was going to get shot on a run. I’m just lucky bullets are attracted to my ass and not my head.”

Ian’s entire demeanour changed and Mickey immediately regretted bringing up Terry and his bleak past so casually. Ian tended to agonise over Mickey’s life with his father and the dangers and close calls he’d had. As far as Mickey was concerned, that was all passed and done with—irrelevant to his life with Ian now. Then again, he could let things go a lot easier than Ian could. Mickey’s figured his redhead must have been an avenging angel in a past life.

“Hey, alright, come on, don’t make that face,” Mickey reached up with both hands and started arranging Ian’s face is a series of ridiculous expressions. “That’s all done with. I just didn’t really have time to think about future shit and ambitions and all that.”

“Well you have time now,” Ian replied, batting Mickey’s hands away from his face.

“Construction doesn’t require all this fancy shit. Half the guys on the crew don’t have a piece of paper to their name.”

Ian wasn’t having that. “So? I don’t care about them. You really want to do construction until it completely wears you out? I’m just saying, at least think about what you might like to do. I don’t want you to give up on dreams you don’t even know you have yet.”

“I have what I need already.  I’ve got my dream right here,” Mickey stroked Ian’s waist tenderly and the redhead immediately softened into goo. Still, soft didn’t mean stupid.

“Oh nicely played. That earns you a deluxe blow job later, but not much else,” Ian dropped a kiss on Mickey’s forehead and climbed off him, figuring he’d had enough for one day. “Think about it, Mickey. I’m not dropping this.”

“Oh, God forbid,” Mickey muttered under his breath as he watched Ian’s retreating form. There was never any way to win these battles with Ian. Clearly, he had some thinking to do.

* * *

Three days before graduation and Ian was in possession of a grand total of five tickets, which still left him two short if he was going to make sure all his siblings and Mandy got in to the ceremony. His siblings, with the exception of Lip, were crammed into an RV heading for Long Island and he and Mickey were busy blowing up a couple of air mattresses to supplement their sofa bed.

“So Fiona and Liam can take the sofa; Debbie and Carl won’t mind crashing on these. Kev can share with Carl and we’ll figure out what the fuck to do with Lip if and when he gets here. It’s only for three days,” Ian yelled at Mickey over the dull roar of the pump. “It’ll be fine.”

Mickey didn’t bother answering; he would have to take Ian’s word for it. The Gallagher Clan wouldn’t even be there for another day and Mickey was already tensing up. It wasn’t that he didn’t like them—they were Ian’s blood after all—but they were loud and chaotic and invasive. Mickey had gotten so used to just the two of them being on their own, he couldn’t help but feel as if the visit was an assault on their safe place. Still, he was just going to have to suck it up and deal.

* * *

There was no way that RV was getting into the city, so the next day, Ian was at the Atlantic terminal of the LIRR, waiting to pick up his family and friends. Carl was the first to spot him and barrelled into him with the force of a linebacker. Debbie and Liam squealed him name and helped dog-pile on him in the middle of the busy station.  Fiona had to pull them off before someone called security, only for Kev to pull him into a bear hug.

“Fucking college grad, huh?” Kev finally let him down so he could finally get a hug from his big sister. “Vee sends her love and apologies. You know she wants to be here, but you know, twin terrors.”

“Jesus, we’re proud of you,” Fiona gushed, smacking his chest hard before hugging him again. “You and Lip keep scaring me before you pull it together.”

“Damn, you guys got big,” Ian grunted exaggeratedly as he hoisted up a beaming Liam. He grinned at his younger siblings as they flanked him. “What are you guys even on?”

Carl was as tall as he was and thickening into a powerhouse. Ian couldn’t resist flicking Debbie’s smooth, glossy, shampoo commercial hair. “What’s with the ‘do?”

“I’m a senior now, Ian,” Debbie stated matter-of-factly, “curls are out, smooth is in; no sneakers, Mary Jane pumps only, and ankle socks and nude pantyhose are so gauche.”

“Jesus,” Ian mumbled dazedly and Debbie shrugged light-heartedly.

“It’s high school, it’s so dumb. I’m just playing the popular game until I escape. I’m getting A’s though!”

Before Ian could state his approval and get them ready to connect to one of the local trains, Debbie tapped on Ian’s shoulder solemnly. “Look, Ian, we have something to tell you.”

“There they are!” An impossibly familiar voice rang out and Ian stiffened. There was no way in hell. “And there he is—the big college man.”

“What the fuck is he doing here?!” Ian hissed before pivoting to face Frank, who was now shambling up to meet them, having wandered off earlier to find cigarettes.

Kevin spread his hands helplessly. “He stowed away in the fucking bathroom, man. Didn’t even know he was in there until we were like six hours out. We couldn’t turn back, couldn’t dump him…”

“The hell you couldn’t,” Ian snapped.

“And we couldn’t leave him in the RV either,” Kev continued, undaunted. “I borrowed that shit from Rico. He will cut my fingers off if it’s not back in perfect condition. Sorry, dude. We should have done a sweep first, but we’ll keep him under wraps, though; we promise.”

Ian sighed heavily as Frank stumbled up to envelop him in a clumsy hug and immediately launched into another bullshit oratory, this time focusing on education and achievement. Mickey was going to lose his shit.

* * *

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Mickey snarled; eyeballing Frank as the man tried to make himself as unobtrusive as possible in a corner of their apartment. It was bad enough that that he came home to find bodies everywhere and not one square foot of his apartment unoccupied; but Frank Gallagher had not been part of the deal.

“He stowed away in the RV; it was too late to dump him,” Ian quickly explained before Mickey got to thinking that any of this was his idea.

“You know, I object to the lack of charitable feeling on display here,” Frank shoved off the wall and prepared to make his feelings known. “I have been cruelly maligned all along this trip when all I am guilty of is being a proud father, who wishes to see his son toss his hat. Is that—is that such a terrible crime?”

Mickey immediately had a premonition about winding up in jail before the graduation could even begin for having choked out one drunken old man. Then again, he wasn’t alone in his thinking. For now, he chose to ignore the deadbeat and handed Ian an envelope.

“What’s this,” Ian quickly opened it and stared dumbfounded at a bunch of new graduation tickets. “How?!”

“Forgeries, copies, what have you,” Mickey grinned broadly, “can’t believe I didn’t think of that shit before.”

“They’re perfect!” Ian declared, squinting hard at the tickets for any discrepancies or inconsistencies. They seemed flawlessly done.

“As long as they’re only collecting and not scanning, we’re in the clear,” Mickey nodded, although he was going to make damn sure that his was an original, because if shit did go down, he wasn’t about to get booted from his boyfriend’s graduation ceremony.

“You’re a prince, Mickey,” Debbie, who had been genuinely scared she was going to get left out, hugged him tightly, causing Mickey to short circuit.

“Good looking out, man,” Carl added and Mickey nodded at him while awkwardly patting Debbie’s back.

* * *

Later on, Mickey’s home was full of noise, music and laughter and he was completely invaded. Still, he couldn’t feel too upset about it. Ian was over the moon having his family there, and not just there, but there for him and he could barely contain himself. Mandy had come over and was giggling with Debbie. Mickey couldn’t help but grin from his bedroom door as Ian danced around with Liam on his feet, while the others chattered and danced and pored over new photos.

“So life in the Big Apple,” Kev disengaged from the fray and came over to hand Mickey a beer. “You guys making it out here okay?”

“Yeah, we’re surviving; it’s good.”

“Shit, man, I’m happy for you guys,” Kev nodded towards Ian, “this is what it’s all about—getting out, finding your own way.”

Mickey watched Ian interact happily with his family, “yeah, he misses the heck out of them though.”

“Yeah, no avoiding that,” Kev agreed, “but that’s just how it is with families. They’re supposed to start you off, prepare you, get you on your way so you can carve out your own path and your own happiness,” Kevin sniffed and clapped Mickey on the back. “Don’t worry about it, the Gallaghers are bound to scatter, but they know how to find their way back to home base if they need to.”

“Jesus, do all you Alibi fucks get this chatty when you’re drunk?” Mickey snorted and grinned, but reassured by the rambling anyway.

“Yes, yes we do,” Kev confirmed loftily, “You were catching it too, just that you got out in time.”

Mickey wasn’t going to deny that. “How the Rub and Tug going?”

“The world’s oldest profession marches on proudly, my friend,” Kev declared, “I won’t complain.”

* * *

It was the night before graduation and by the time Ian and Mickey crawled into bed, they were exhausted. Mandy wound up taking Debbie home to crash with her leaving Kevin with an air mattress to himself while Carl was stuck with his dad. Lip had yet to show, his job tying him up, but he planned to fly in and make it to the Center before the start of the ceremony. Ian was already writing him off as a no-show.

“I love my family,” Ian murmured against Mickey’s neck as he snuggled closer to him, “but they have to go, holy hell.” Mickey chuckled at Ian’s tired exasperation. “I can’t wait until we’re on our own again. It’s only been two days and I’m already halfway up the wall. Next time, we’ll do the visiting so we can get the heck out of Dodge when we need to.”

Mickey only smiled contentedly to himself and stayed quiet. There was no way he was maneuvering that potential minefield of offering an opinion on Gallagher state of affairs.

They may have been tired with all the running around, getting ready and navigating a small apartment packed like a clown car, but sleep was hard in coming. Ian was too wired and excited and he tossed and turned all night. Around dawn, he reached for Mickey and trailed his fingers over his partner’s hip and up his side while he nipped at his shoulder—one of their gentler signals for wanting intimacy. Mickey rolled over but clapped a hand over Ian’s mouth as the redhead moved to kiss him.

“No kissing, you’ve got breath like an open sewer right now,” Mickey grumbled but soothed the slight by reaching down and stroking Ian slowly.

“Yeah, like yours is rose water,” Ian acquiesced and shifted to bite along Mickey’s jaw line, moaning as Mickey’s strokes tighter and faster.

“Oh, must you do that now?”

The two men flew apart, startled by the grumpy voice coming from the foot of their bed. Ian quickly got up and headed for the source to find his father curled up on the floor at the foot of their bed.

“What the fuck are you doing in our room?!”

Frank tugged at his jacket in annoyance, very put out at the disturbance to his beauty rest. “Your brother is all elbows and knees, Kevin snores like an asthmatic lumberjack… All I wanted was a little peace and quiet, so I can do without any of the Greco-Roman displays you two are so fond of, please!”

Ian and Mickey exchanged incredulous glances while Frank actually drifted back to sleep.

“You should have let me kill him back then,” Mickey pointed out and rolled over to get a couple more hours sleep, leaving his boyfriend to deal with his mess of a dad.

* * *

The next few hours were a flurry of chaotic activity as seven people tried to get ready in a small one bedroom, one bathroom apartment. Fiona was regretting not heading to Mandy’s tiny studio with Debbie, because it still had to be better than this madness. It was a morning full of people snapping, bumping into furniture and each other, and aggravated yelling. By the time the taxi van came and they began filing out, Ian and Mickey’s apartment looked as if it had been hit by a hurricane.

Frank lingered behind, looking for cigarettes and fussing with his borrowed suit while the others piled out, chattering excitedly. He headed for the door to follow them only for Mickey to step in front of him and close it, leaving them alone in the apartment. Frank looked at Mickey uncertainly, while the younger man stared back unblinkingly.

“Look, I know what you’re going to say,” Frank decided to head the lecture off at the pass, “Fiona has already talked my ear off at length about this, so has Debbie, and Lip, and Kev and Veronica. In fact, half the goddamn Southside, people I don’t even know, has exhorted me to be on my best behaviour and informed me of the significance and gravity of my son’s special day. So I assure you, I will be on my best behaviour, alright?”

Mickey scratched his nose and continued to stare Frank down until sweat prickled at the back of the drunk’s neck.

“Ian can’t help it, he wants you there, wants you to be present and proud and shit. So you’re going to do that; you’re going to help your son celebrate and add to the happiness. That’s all you’re going to do. You fuck up today and I will beat you like a piñata. I will kick the shit out of you so badly, that borrowed liver you got will crawl out your ass and find its way back to its original owner. We clear?”

Frank blinked and nodded enthusiastically. Just before Mickey could open the door and walk out, Frank cleared his throat. “Just so there’s no confusion, what exactly constitutes as a ‘fuck up’?”

“If for even one moment he’s less happy than he would have been had you not been there,” Mickey said simply.

“That seems incredibly subjective and Ian can be quite moody and-”

“Piñata, Frank,” Mickey repeated and headed out the door without another word. Frank could only sigh and follow.

* * *

“All graduates please report to the check-in stations. We’re about to prepare for the march.”

“Shit,” Ian whispered, bouncing a little as he gripped Mickey’s shirt a little tighter. He had been doing that unconsciously since they were in the van. Mickey gently disengaged Ian’s death grip and rubbed his hand reassuringly.

“You need to go do your thing. We need to go find a bunch of seats with the best view,” Mickey prodded him gently.

“Lip’s not here yet,” Ian hedged.

“We’ll keep a seat open and we all have our phones. It won’t be a problem,” Fiona waved her phone at Ian and smiled winningly at him. “Now go before they leave you behind.”

Perhaps not the best phrasing because Ian was gripping Mickey’s shirt again. Maybe he should have popped an extra Ativan for today. “Not to sound like a total flake or anything, but is this whole thing really necessary? I mean, I get the degree anyway and this is just…” Ian looked around the sea of families and graduates, the chaos of the moment and couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed. “This is a lot.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Suppose I freak out?”

“You’re not going to freak out,” Debbie hushed him soothingly as she rubbed her brother’s arm.

“You don’t have to do anything,” Frank interrupted loudly, “after all this is nothing but an exercise in the aggrandizement of the whole education racket. A self-congratulatory parade highlighting the fact that they’ve managed to scam yet another batch of naive, idealistic fledglings into believing that anything they’ve done here matters. They’ve done nothing but bilk you out of thousands just so they can sink you into the soul crushing muck of the rat race. You shouldn’t be blamed for wanting nothing to do with this…farce!”

“Frank!” “Dad!” “For God’s sake, Frank!”

“Fuck you, I worked hard for this shit,” Ian replied indignantly. “You think I’m not going to walk because _you_ don’t see any value in it?”

“Then by all means take your bow, but know that even though you are but a tiny cog in the machinery of the Big Education con, you are still helping to move it forward.”

“Unbelievable,” Ian sighed and turned to Mickey, “I should have let you kill him back then. I need to go, they’re announcing again.”

“Um, yeah,” Mickey shook himself out of his Frank induced stupor, gave a cautious glance around and pulled Ian down for a quick kiss. He beamed at Ian’s stunned expression, “you go your thing, college boy.”

Everyone else gave him their hugs before finally sending him on his way. After he was gone, they all turned to Frank who looked surprised at the sudden scrutiny.

“What? That does not count as a ‘fuck up,’” he said pointedly to Mickey. “He was going to the opposite of whatever I suggested and you know it!” With that, Frank swaggered off towards the general seating, leaving his astounded family in his dust.

“Fucking Frank, man,” Kev shrugged and took off after him.

“Fucking Frank,” Mickey grinned and did the same.

* * *

Lip made it in the middle of the school president’s remarks, just before the doors were to be closed against latecomers. Fiona had had to meet him at the door with his fake ticket.

“Way to cut it close there, Chief,” Carl elbowed Lip after he and Fiona uprooted a bunch of people to get to their seats.

“Everything was fucked and why do you sound like Mickey?” Lip huffed and Mickey and Carl shot him with identical grins.

They suffered through a million speeches and special awards and finally it was time for the graduates to collect their degrees. Ian’s was the third group to collect and the entire family braced for his name. Everyone had been told to hold their applause until the list of names had been completed, but yeah, fuck that. When Ian’s name was called and he appeared on stage, the Gallagher-Milkovich Clan (Kevin included) lost their collective minds.     

“We love you!” Mandy screamed unabashedly.

“Go Ian!” the Gallaghers proper yelled in unison, clearly having planned it. Mickey and Kev whistled through their fingers and Frank sipped the beer he had snuck in.

Ian’s grin could be seen from space, but he quickly hustled off the stage before his dean could skewer him with a look. When he cleared the stage, his family settled down, though not without earning quite a few glares. Mickey and Mandy raised twin eyebrows at a family who was sniffing at them disapprovingly.

“Hey, that was my boyfriend, her best friend, and their goddamned family,” Mickey defended, “you thought we were gonna fucking golf clap?”

* * *

Ian, a bunch of his friends and their respective families congregated at Mandy’s bar for the after party. Lip finally managed to get his hug in and Ian honestly could not have been happier.

“Really thought you weren’t going to make it,” Ian admitted and Lip shoved him playfully.

“You thought I was going to miss this shit? You’re out of your mind,” he nodded to Frank who had taken his rightful place at the bar. “How bad would it have looked if he made it and I didn’t? Fuck that.”

Mandy had talked the owner into offering two free rounds in Ian’s honour and half-priced drinks after that. Giving the way everyone was drinking, he would be turning a lovely profit anyway—Mandy could water down drinks with the best of them.

Well into night, Frank managed to find Ian again as his son sat slumped against his boyfriend in a booth. “Despite what I said earlier about the great evil of the tertiary education scheme, albeit true, I’m proud of you, son,” it was slurred and barely coherent, but it still managed to find a warm place inside Ian. “You did good.”

“Thanks, Frank,” Ian allowed his father a small smile and Frank nodded and was soon off again. Ian shook his head and took another sip of his drink before slumping against Mickey, completely content.

* * *

They all finally made it back to the apartment and everyone pretty much just dropped to the floor—drunk and exhausted. Ian and Mickey tried their best to step carefully over the bodies on their way to their bedroom and sighed with relief when they made it in without incident. Mickey sprawled on the bed and Ian was soon on him, peppering bourbon-soaked kisses all over his partner’s face.

“Tell me you’re proud of me,” Ian commanded as he fumbled with Mickey’s belt.

“I’m fucking proud of you,” Mickey said sincerely, “I’ve never been prouder of anyone, ever.”

“Tell me you love me,” Ian lay alongside Mickey and licked his palm before plunging his hand into Mickey’s pants and boxers and palming him roughly.

“I fucking love you,” Mickey breathed raggedly and arched into the ministration.

“I love you, Mickey, so much,” Ian panted into Mickey’s ear as he frantically jerked off his partner. Mickey didn’t last long—too drunk and too tired to put up any resistance. He lay still for a while, trying to make some semblance of a recovery so he could at least try to return the favour. It was unnecessary though, since Ian was already passed out, his hand still firmly down Mickey’s pants.

“Hey,” Mickey nudged his boyfriend, “you asleep?” He snorted in amusement at Ian’s unintelligible moan. “You gonna give me my dick back?”

“Mine,” Ian grunted and returned to blissful unconsciousness.

“Yeah, okay, fair enough,” Mickey muttered and passed out right along with him.


End file.
